


a conversation in stalling

by sodadesq



Series: kick the ball high and ill calculate the parabola [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 2010s, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Bad Spelling & Grammar, England (Country), First Meetings, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Not Beta Read, Strangers to Friends, Swearing, but they are kids so they wont be exactly the same personality as their adult selves, lower case, slightly OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-27 01:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20940062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sodadesq/pseuds/sodadesq
Summary: fourteen year old sherlock hated the boarding school.it was filled with immature and unintelligent boys who couldn't pour water out of a bucket if the instructions were on the bottom. he'd never even attempted to make a friend because he'd managed to offend half the student body. when he was inevitably chased into a changing room reserved for the athletic, he meets someone who doesn't immediately hate him.john watson.





	1. chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> this entire fic is in lower case. if you dont like that no pressure to read it.
> 
> TRIGGER: this fic contains the f slur being used. this is not used by sherlock or john, just mean characters. there is also heavy swearing (again, by not-so-nice characters that i promise are irrelevant in the grand scheme of things).

sherlock hated the boarding school.

it was filled with immature and unintelligent boys who couldn't pour water out of a bucket if the instructions were on the bottom. they favoured insults with no meaning behind them other than the grating, venomous tone they spat it with. and who would be a better candidate for their insults than himself? sherlock holmes, of course - the weirdo boy who didn't have friends and made weird deductions, because he was _weird_. 

sherlock considered all their bad qualities, and decided it wasn't worth the effort of befriending people he wasn't sure actually had a brain. not that he had intended on befriending them even if they were decent. people were barriers made of the stupid and the irritating; always in his way, babbling about anything their cloud of a brain managed to retain. there was absolutely nothing that could make him wish to be even slightly pleasant to them.

nothing at all.

which was why he found himself often running away from them, his bag held over his head as a shoddy shield to prevent a concussion from their favourite weapon - heavy rocks. 

"faggot!" one boy shouted. their school shoes thundered behind him as they chased him through the schoolyard. sherlock wondered why that was their favoured insult. 'faggot' was such a dull word, and he'd never given the implication he was gay anyway, which meant they were using it purely for the assumed weight it held over sherlock (they were mistaken, it meant nothing to him). 

sherlock hadn't bothered to learn their names aside from a few last names. winchester was the ringleader - a tall blonde boy with a knack for football and bullying. and judged on a quick glance behind him, he was catching up to him. darrens was a bit of a stocky one whose stomach had more content in it than his mind. he wasn't as fast but he threw a heavy punch. that was something sherlock had first found out when he had misjudged the fatty over a year ago. 

sherlock willed his legs to move faster, willed the rocks to stop flying so he could gather his bearings and willed that maybe a teacher would intercept his assailants for five seconds so he could get away. they never did - sherlock guessed the teachers harboured a secret hatred for him as well and let his bullies terrorise him for morbid enjoyment. if he wasn't himself, he might have enjoyed the sorry sight. but he was himself, and while it was a blessing and a curse, he considered it a curse right now. 

he exhaled as another rock whizzed past his ear and he spotted the changing rooms (with toilets attached) located outside for sports. it was a gamble. usually they were locked past five pm, and if anyone wanted to use them they'd have to go into the dormitories instead. but every second day, the janitor came in around five, so they were left unlocked for an extra hour or so until they locked it up for the night. and he knew the janitor had a girlfriend he liked to talk to on his phone before his shift. that meant the janitor started his cleaning a bit later. 

it was open. 

sherlock mustered the last bit of strength he had, and dashed for it. 

"come on lads! faggot needs a fuckin' beating!" darrens shouted gleefully. 

sherlock almost ran into the door as he swung it open. he darted inside, and pushed it shut. with shaky hands, he flicked the lock below the pull handle on the inside. he stumbled back onto the brick behind him, eyes wide. a few seconds later, someone bumped into it to try and open it. there was a chorus of loud taunts and angry cursing from the outside when they realised what he'd done.

"come on, sherlock, you bastard! come out and play! what are ya, scared?"

"pussy! fucking pussy!"

"you'll have to come out sometime! we'll fucking wait!" 

sherlock pushed their voices out of his mind and glanced around the changing room. locked blue lockers adorned one side of, though one was unlocked but shut. the metal benches were empty and there was a forgotten jersey left on the floor. he moved away from the door, in case they'd do something insane like break it with a hatchet. he didn't think such a thing would happen as it'd lead to their expulsion immediately, but he didn't know how desperate they were to punch him. they had also fallen suspiciously silent, and he didn't trust that at all.

attached to the changing room was a door that led to a bathroom. he quiet strode over to it, wanting to ensure he was completely alone in here before he let himself relax and think about his next move. 

as soon as he pushed open the door -one fist raised as a precaution- he was met by a pair of bright blue eyes. 

"bloody _hell_-!" the blue eyes exclaimed, jumping back. "sorry. i didn't think anyone would be in here." 

surprised, sherlock blinked. "yes...neither did i," he agreed after a beat. he lowered his fist.

"so," the boy said awkwardly, "can i get past?" 

"oh. yes." sherlock moved back before slamming his hand against the door frame in a frantic gesture. "wait- _no_..."

he'd remembered who resided outside. 

"no?" blue-eyes asked, craning his neck past sherlock. 

sherlock exhaled and moved to the side. "i just meant- i'd forgotten..." 

the boy peered at him curiously before widening his eyes. "aren't you that strange bloke?"

sherlock didn't say anything, not knowing if he was. he'd decided he probably was, but...he sort of didn't want to confirm it, in case blue-eyes was best friends with winchester and co. 

"i s'pose you are. i'm in one of your classes - science. you're bloody amazing at knowing everything," he went on, "incredible, really, if you don't mind me saying. how you described that solution to our teacher as if you discovered it yourself...brilliant." 

amazing. incredible. brilliant. amazing. incredible. brilliant. amazing. incredible. brilliant. incredible. brilliant. _amazing_.

sherlock had never been so blatantly complimented by another student before. they'd usually told him to piss off. or throw rocks at him. conclusion was, that nobody ever expressed that they liked him in any way, or his intellect, or the way he never shut up because he never could stop his mind from shouting. he never could stop himself talking because he had to say everything his mind shouted at him. on the very thing everyone hated (including himself), he'd been complimented.

"-mate, are you alright?" 

sherlock blinked, and gathered himself up. he'd ended up staring at blue-eyes for a few seconds too long. he must have looked like a bloody creep. 

"sorry, i...got lost in my thoughts. what's your name?" 

"we're in the same class and you don't know?" 

"yes. i don't often pay attention to things like that, because i assumed i'd never talk to you and thus never have the need to address you." 

blue-eyes exhaled in amused fascination. he extended out a hand for him to shake. "john watson."

sherlock took it, mirroring him, "sherlock holmes."

"nice to meet you," john let go, "i've actually got to go though. promised i'd give mum a ring before tea." 

sherlock glanced at the door. he knew they must be still there, it'd barely been five minutes. he looked back at john. if he opened the door they'd rush past him and he'd be a trapped animal. the stalls in the bathroom were flimsy and anyone could climb over or under so he couldn't hide at all. 

stall.

he had to stall him. damn the phone call! 

"football. you play football."

"sorry?"

"you play football. you're wearing sport shorts indicating you were playing only a short while ago but sports is during the day and not near tea which means you were practising alone. no, no, you were with someone, otherwise you'd have the ball. you also weren't in full attire - there's small amounts of mud upon your shins that can only get there if you weren't wearing long socks which is part of the correct attire for football...so you didn't want to bring attention to you and suggest you were out playing as being on the field is not allowed near tea. i presume you haven't changed yet and intend to change when you're in your dorm because you haven't got a bag with you. you only came in here for the bathroom. your jumper also has specks of mud on the sleeve similar to the specks on your shin - the force of kicking the ball must have shed dirt over you." sherlock took a deep breath after that analysis. 

john stared at him, mouth twitching as if to say something but he ended up gaping at him.

sherlock looked expectant but after receiving no reaction he looked downward. he supposed john was in the shock of him being right, and then he'd tell him to piss off. why did he do that? he shouldn't have stalled him and annoyed him. he seemed like a nice bloke too, but he'd gone and ruined it over some selfish stalling. brilliant, sherlock.

"brilliant." 

'_what_?' "what?" sherlock questioned. 

"brilliant, you're right. i play football a lot before tea with my mate. we're only practising tricks," john said. "he thinks it'll help get him girls." 

"will it?" 

"dunno, mate. i don't understand girls." 

"neither," sherlock replied quietly, still shocked. why were they still talking? it was creepy. nobody willingly talked to him for this long. what was happening?

"so...how'd you know all of that?" 

sherlock swallowed. "i observed. why haven't you punched me yet?" 

alarm passed john's face. "uh...it wasn't on my list," he shifted, "should it be?"

sherlock gave a shrug, "most people think so."

john considered this for a moment. he turned to sit on the metal bench, stretching his legs out. he had strong calves, sherlock noted. they sat and stood in silence for a moment, none of them wanting to break the silence. eventually they did.

"sod them."

sherlock glanced around. "who?"

"the people who think you should be punched. who cares? they're twats." john looked right at him. "i reckon you should punch them back if they do. if you need help i'd be glad to."

"they'd tattle and i'd be suspended." 

"you can claim self defense easily."

sherlock frowned, narrowing his eyes. how did...

"you opened the door with your fist up and flinched when you saw me. unless you've got a bad home life it's because of them. also you have a bruise on your jaw." 

"it's healed."

"mostly, but it's still yellow. been about a week since." 

sherlock scowled. "so?"

"you have proof they hurt you first, and it's been happening for a while. that's proof the headmaster can't ignore." 

"their parents bribe the headmaster," sherlock told him, sitting down himself on the bench across from john. "it's the voice of a disliked student against a money dispenser." 

"surely they can't...ignore a student." 

sherlock chuckled darkly, looking away. "they do," he stood up suddenly. john jumped. "it's the way of the damned, john! i'll be quite fine. asides, don't be so worrying over someone you've met once. it's..." he gestured as he tried to think of a word, "creepily caring." 

john frowned. "right. i was only trying to give advice, mate." 

"refrain from it." sherlock didn't mean for his voice to be so cold but _come on_, if it was that simple he'd have tried to get them suspended already. but it wasn't. their parents all donated graciously to the school as a bribe to ignore their children's behaviour. because this was a prestigious school thus it had to be corrupt. '_thankyou father for sending me, i've had a lovely time_,' he thought bitterly.

john bit his lip and stood up, "well...it's tea time...so, i missed my time slot for calling mum. best get to the hall to eat, then." 

"yep," sherlock said. john's was using a clipped tone. he was unhappy with sherlock. he wasn't surprised - everyone become angry with him eventually. 

his new not-friend sniffed, clenching his fist and unclenching it before heading to the door. 

"why is it- you know what? nevermind," john murmured.

he heard the click of the lock. the door squeaked open, and john left. sherlock strained his ears for any noise. there was no voices. no insults. only the hushed silence. the door fell shut. the bullies had left. he was safe.

sherlock exhaled. 

he didn't feel very relieved. 

he just thought sherlock holmes was a wanker.


	2. chapter two

they hadn't spoken in two weeks. 

sherlock hadn't purposely avoided john. he had no reason to. he wasn't a bully he had to hide from everyday unlike winchester and co. well, as far as sherlock knew. john could easily be plotting his demise. but so far, sherlock was fine and hadn't seen any sign of the blue eyed boy aside from science class. they also weren't friends. they'd spoken for five minutes, so there was no reason to actively seek out the guy. 

john was quiet in their shared class, but he did sit next to his friend. sherlock didn't have to do much deducing to know it must be his football friend who he inconspicuously practised with. the two sat behind him - both a blessing and a curse. they acted as a human barrier between him and winchester who favoured the seats at the back. he was also acutely aware of john the entire time...which was mildly distracting. mildly.

john had a habit of turning his pages a bit louder than sherlock appreciated. paper flicking over other pages filled his ears. that, with the monotonous voice of mr harvey (a bald middle aged man with thick glasses that had a wonky arm) ended up being a grating combination. he tapped his nails against the desk irritably, not mindful of his desk mates in the least.

"can you stop tapping?" a boy whispered from next to him. "it's really distracting."

sherlock ignored him. 

the nameless boy huffed, and poked him. "stop tapping, freak." 

his head turned to stare at him. "what?"

"stop tapping!"

sherlock glanced at his twitching fingers. "oh." he realised, and ceased his fingers. he started the tapping again only a few minutes later.

his classmate's hand shot up. was he really going to tattle on such a mild thing?

"dull," sherlock commented, side-eyeing him. what was his name again?

"sir, sherlock's being distracting. can i switch with someone?" 

"we have thirty minutes left, philip. you can survive until the end," mr harvey sighed. 

philip shook his head quickly. "no, seriously, he's bloody annoying! i want to switch seats." 

mr harvey was the kind of teacher that had long regretted becoming a teacher. he went through the motions in every class and it was such a depressing thing for sherlock - not because there was no passion and thus he wasn't enthused about the class, but because it was so boring. his other teacher, a disorganised and angry maths teacher was so much more interesting than this sad rock. the regret and lack of will to teach (or even live) was what made mr harvey the kind of man to give up in any argument. which was how sherlock ended up with a discontent john watson beside him, and a smirking peter behind him (or whatever his name was).

"alright?" john whispered politely after a minute of silence.

"yes, you?" sherlock responded reluctantly. why were they talking?

"fine." 

sherlock said nothing else, focusing on balancing his own equations in his mind. there was certainly nothing else to interest him. aside from the boy beside him. no, no. they weren't friends. not even _acquaintances_. 

"philip's a bit of a prick, then?" john asked. he kept his voice low lest someone hear. 

sherlock hid his own surprise at the forced conversation. he didn't look at john as he answered. "who?" 

john stared at him. "he was just sat here." 

"really? i'd forgotten," sherlock replied. it was partly true. 

john's lips quirked. "can't have forgotten a guy who called you a freak." 

"he's not anywhere near noteworthy enough for me to remember. nor unnoteworthy enough to be noteworthy." sherlock scribbled out the result of his equation on the corner of his page. he smiled for a moment, satisfied. it disappeared soon after. 

john raised an eyebrow. "do you like chemistry?"

"i...find it adequately interesting." 

"so yeah, you do," john answered for him. 

sherlock offered a shrug. "and you like..?"

his classmate looked up from writing notes. "i think you already know." 

"maybe," sherlock said, putting his pen down on his book. his fingers fell into a familiar steeple under his chin. it was a habit he'd formed when he was young and it was comfortable to him. "it's history." 

at john's raise of his eyebrows he continued on hesitantly. "you...like the simplicity of the lessons. all you have to do is remember who started what war. well...'remember' is a stretch. you write answers in between your fingers to cheat through an essay. there's smudges on your hand from last lesson."

john smiled sheepishly, subconsciously rubbing his fingers.

sherlock continued on. "though it's less about the subject and more about your teacher. he plays football too, i assume, and is young and therefore more relatable to his students. perhaps he's prone to...advice if a child needs it. thus making him even more likeable as it appears he cares." 

"yeah, he's-"

"sherlock, stop distracting the students around you. john, stop indulging him!" mr harvey suddenly boomed across the room. 

john faced the front again, looking a bit put off for being yelled at. "sorry, sir." 

mr harvey huffed like an angry bull, and turned back to the board. 

sherlock exhaled suddenly, his lips turned into an amused smile. 

"jesus, i didn't think he even had the will to raise his voice!" john remarked, pretending to take notes. 

sherlock made a noise in the back of his throat that was a well-disguised laugh. "i thought him doing anything other than mumble boringly would stop his heart."

john giggled, pulling up his shirt collar near his mouth. "how was his voice still monotonic?" 

"dedicated to the role of a rock," sherlock muttered, which sent john into a silent giggle fit. it was hardly funny, the genius thought to himself. it was just remarks. it was the scenario that was funny - the psychology of not being allowed to do something that made you want to do it even more because you weren't allowed. but...he sort of enjoyed it. it was...fun. 

he stole a glance at john.

john looked at him.

they both erupted into snickers again. john had shoved his fist against his mouth. sherlock had taken to biting on the end of his pen and focusing very hard on his science notes.

"stop it, we can't giggle, we'll get detention!" john scolded, voice wavy. 

sherlock coughed into his hand. "have you ever?"

"'course," john replied. "you?" 

"yep." 

the two boys managed to stay silent after that. john ignored the lesson in favour of watching sherlock scribble his thoughts onto paper. it was things he didn't understand, but he was sure they could be written by sheldon in the big bang theory. the guy was a genius. he seemed a bit rebellious and aloof - unsure how to make friends. they weren't friends, john didn't think, just...acquaintances. 

sherlock glanced at his watch. "six minutes left," he murmured to himself. 

john exhaled. he glanced at sherlock. "hey."

"mm."

"that deduction you made about me two weeks ago," john said, shifting his hands, "you were showing off, weren't you?"

"...what gave you that impression?" 

"i was wearing football trainers. you could have easily known i was out playing just by that, but you kept rambling on about every tiny detail nobody else would have noticed."

sherlock looked away. damn, he'd noticed he'd gone overboard. it must have been the sport short bit. that was a stupid bit of observation. "it wasn't to show off. i was stalling." 

"stalling. really." john sounded disbelieving. 

sherlock _hated_ to admit this. he hated that he had to explain why he was in there and why he'd spoken to john. any other reason and sherlock wouldn't have acknowledged his existence. 

"my assailants were chasing me. i hid in there to wait until they became bored and left. but i didn't account for anyone else being in there, and if you opened the door early..."

john's jaw dropped a bit. "they'd have run in and beat you. that's why it was locked when i left." 

"yes." 

sherlock didn't look at him, staring intensely at his watch. it was a pathetic reason. john probably pitied him. the nerd who had to run away from people because if he beat them up in return he'd be suspended. if mycroft was here, maybe he could strike a deal with the headmaster, but he wasn't. the stupid fatty was in france, as if anyone willingly went to that over romanticised place. 

"you still showed off a bit," john whispered, voice lacking any indication of pity (to sherlock's surprise and appreciation). peculiarly, john didn't seem worried about what happened two weeks ago as if nothing had happened. sherlock felt a weird sense of relief at john's friendliness. not that they were friends. just...classmates that now seemed to sit next to eachother in science. sherlock wondered why john's presence was so _easy_ to tolerate. he was so easy to talk to and had a decent sense of humour. sherlock stored his questions away in his mind as he regarded the grinning boy next to him.

"shut up, john."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thankyou for reading!  
if you liked this fic feel free to drop a kudos/comment (for inspiration and to satiate my narcissistic tendencies ofc). 
> 
> this is part of a series ill hopefully be updating a few more times in the month.

**Author's Note:**

> if anyone is interested in a series of short boarding school fics, please let me know. (maybe they'll have have proper capital letters - or if you appreciate the lowercase aesthetic then let me know too.)


End file.
